OH! foolish troubled heart, That wilt not be at rest, But sorrowful thou knowest not why Throbbest within my breast, Murmuring at thy lot, Hoping what thou knowest not, What aileth thee? Longing so wearily, What aileth thee? Not grief thy foe can be, Life works thee no such ill, It is not love that wakens thee, Why art not sleeping still? By strange feelings stirred, Pining like a prisoned bird, What aileth thee? Longing so drearily, What aileth thee? Hast thou some weird voice heard, That bade thee rest no more? Oh, prithee slumber once again, Thou wast so still before; Wherefore so troubled art? Rest, rest, oh! foolish heart, What aileth thee? Longing so wearily, What aileth thee? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT SAGAMORE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN THE DAYS OF PRISMATIC COLOR by MARIANNE MOORE TO MY MYRTLE [MIRTLE] by WILLIAM BLAKE LESSER EPISTLES: TO A YOUNG LADY WITH SOME LAMPREYS by JOHN GAY THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON IN LIGHTER VEIN by ELIZABETH KEMPER ADAMS |